Comin' Up From The Bottom
by GrabTheSpotlight
Summary: Sequel to The World Has No Right To My Heart. John's struggling. Really badly. But at least this time he has Alex. However, what will he do when the table is turned? How will he cope when the chips are down?


**Bit of a long one. This is the sequel to my previous work The World Has No Right To My Heart. So, you should definitely check that out before reading this one. Shout out to MindAtWork because you're awesome and I wrote this for you. Enjoy. **

* * *

The chair was really uncomfortable. Just hard plastic. I mean, they could have given them cushions or something. I crossed my legs. Uncrossed my legs. Leaned forward. Leaned back. Looked around. I could feel the back of my neck dripping with sweat. Leg bouncing. Hands twitching. _Stop that. _Held my chin in one hand. Crossed my arms. Shut my eyes. Crossed my legs again. Picked at some thread on the sleeve of my jacket. Scratched the back of my neck. Checked the clock. _God, when did this finish? _I could have sworn I'd been here for at least twelve years by now. _No, no, John. You've got it wrong. That's how long you've _needed _to be here. Look at you, quaking. What's wrong? You having an earthquake? You want it again? Do you? Craving? _

"For anyone who wants to go, the funeral is Wednesday. Alright, guys. See you next week," the lady said. Amy. Or it might have been Jamie. I couldn't have been sure. I didn't make an effort to remember.

All the other people - the ones like me - got up and said their goodbyes to each other. Clapped each other on the back. Supported each other. I slipped out unnoticed. I didn't know any of their names. Didn't want to know. Sometimes they didn't come back. Sometimes was today.

I made to push the door open. Everyone took the other exit, but I wanted to leave as soon as I could today, avoid everyone else. This door was closer. My shoulder crashed into the wooden obstacle. _It literally says pull, can you even read? Where are you, John? Off with the fairies again? Stop making a fool of yourself._ I groaned and pulled the door, too forcefully. Bashed it into my foot.

"Just do one thing right! Jesus Christ." I shouted at myself.

I clenched my fists and walked through the car park. _Bet you walk straight past it and look like a dick. You'll pretend you forgot he was picking you up. You'll pretend you weren't looking for the car. But you were. And he'll see that you're lying. He'll think you look like a dick. _One of the cars honked at me. I turned around. Alex stepped out of the black car, wrapped in a leather biker jacket. _Damn he could pull that off. _Leaned on the top of his car, arms folded. I faltered slightly; I was dumbfounded by how good he looked, not sure if I should have felt guilty or not for thinking it. _Established it's not wrong, move on._

He cocked his head toward the passenger side of the car. I grimaced. He was going to ask how it was and how I was feeling and I didn't have the answers he was undoubtedly hoping for. _John the disappointment, as per usual. _His car still smelled of smoke. It triggered something. A memory. Only I couldn't place it. It was early on for me, I could tell that, going back years. I knew the feelings I felt but not why I felt them. Scared, scared shitless, and tired. So tired. Little sad.

"Ready?" he asked, starting the engine.

"I was born ready," I scoffed.

He laughed and drove out of the parking lot. I watched the clinic grow smaller and smaller over my shoulder. Could still feel his eyes casting glances in my direction, they burnt into me. _Worry and concern. You don't deserve it._

"So-"

I shook my head, "nope. We aren't talking about it."

"You didn't let me finish," he rolled his eyes.

I shrugged, pulled at my shirt. Really sweaty. Sticky. Gross. Skin crawling. Itchy. Needed to scrub it clean, but I knew I'd never be rid of the filth; the filth, the poison was inside of me. Building up over years. Barely a few weeks sober and already I was falling apart. Desperate to get a fix. My fault. Couldn't blame anyone else. All my fault.

"I was _gonna_ ask if you wanted to go for a coffee… lunch maybe?" he continued, smiling at me, snapping his head back to watch the roads.

I breathed a laugh out of surprise, "oh, sorry. Uh, I don't know. It's just- and I know I keep refusing these things, I get it, I know, I'm a horrible person. It's just today, today isn't a good day."

I looked down at my lap, wrapped one of my hands around my wrist, trying to still it, surprised at how much thinner they'd both gotten. Pale skin. Not tanned anymore.

"It doesn't have to be today. I just wanna get to know you."

"You've known me for like a million years."

He shook his head, "know you in a different way."

A musician played on one of the streets. Loud music, louder than the radio, louder than my thoughts almost. She didn't quite have a crowd. A few people gawking. An open guitar case in front of her, change in it. I was broke, it reminded me. Rent was due. I needed to go back to work. I was probably going to end up on the streets again if I didn't.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Stuff."

"_Very_ specific." Red light. "How you doing today?"

I shot him a look, rolled my eyes, "fantastic. Obviously. Best I've ever been."

"Come on, I'm serious."

I shrugged, looked out the window again, "it's harder to say no today, that's all."

"Cravings?"

Hesitantly, I made a sound of confirmation. He didn't say anything after that. Maybe he was thinking. I didn't want to look to check. Dreaded what he was thinking. Didn't want to see it on his face. We pulled into a parking spot across from work. Got out together.

Waited in the elevator. Sat at the desk. Already answering calls. Already getting shouted at by annoying clients. Alex took a few calls off of me, scared I was going to kick off. I groaned and put my head in my hands on the desk, tugged at my hair. Pulled a few of the long curls out accidentally. _Is the entirety of you falling apart or…_

"You're coming back to mine tonight."

I looked through the gaps in my fingers, "no. Not tonight." _Why not, John? Gonna raid one of your stashes again? _No, I wasn't. _Sure about that?_

"Please?" He tried to look me right in the eyes.

I looked away. If I didn't make eye contact, I wouldn't feel bad about letting him down. _That's the wackest shit I've ever heard, and I'm you. _Everything about today was going wrong. I pulled at my shirt again.

"I can tell you're struggling. Let me help you," he said. "Just stay at mine tonight. We both know it's gonna be a rough one for you. Do you really wanna be on your own?"

Tried to work on one of the clients logos. Couldn't keep the pencil steady. Kept making shaky lines. The pencil tip broke. I slammed it down.

"Really?" I muttered to myself.

"John."

"What?" I said, tone more aggressive than I'd intended. _Shit. _"No. No I don't think I should be on my own tonight, but I don't want to be fucking up your shit. It's not fair that you have to put up with me when it's not your job to. It's not your fault I screwed up big time and can't cope with the consequences."

He leaned back in his chair, "I know it's not my job."

"Then why are you insisting on keeping me in check?"

"Because I like you. I don't want to watch you do this to yourself."

_You're a fuck up. Hope you know that, Laurens. _Twisted myself in the chair, bounced my knee. Punching a wall would have been nice right about now. Or even someone punching me. Hit me hard enough and I might have been knocked out. Maybe even killed. Either would have been preferable to seeing the sincerity of what Alex was saying in his face. I was being irrational. I knew that. I knew that there were better ways to deal with what I was feeling. I knew I didn't have to take it out on him. I knew I didn't _need _to turn to the stuff sitting back home. Bit my knuckle. _Maybe just a little bit? A little bit wouldn't make a difference. No more after tonight. Just enough to keep me going. Tiny bit._

Alex stood up, grabbed my empty coffee mug, "at least call me. Just so I know you're alright."

"Deal." I said it too quickly. He quirked a brow, turned to get me another drink.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trapped my hands under my arms, locked them in place. It was so fucking irritating. What time was it? Could I leave now? Sooner I got home, the sooner I could… no. No more. I was going to get some snacks. Have some coffee. Binge some Netflix. Go to bed early. That's what I needed to do. He brought me the fresh cup. I stared it. Warmed my hands around it. _You'd stop shaking if you took some. Stop the sweats. Stop the pain. _Thoughts swirling, my own personal hurricane.

"Hey, maybe…"

He looked up, "yeah?"

"You're- you're right. I shouldn't be on my own tonight." It pained me to say it. The addict in me screaming at my stupidity. But I'd said it. Couldn't go back now.

"So, you'll come with me?"

I nodded slowly, "if you're sure you're okay with it." Returned my head to my hands. Wiped at my face. Clawed at it with my chewed nails. It was probably all red. Made a change from the pale.

"I'm proud of you," he said it slowly, like he wanted to let it sink into my brain.

What he wanted to say was, 'you make my life hella difficult. I'm just pretending to be your friend because I pity you and your pathetic life.' I wasn't deserving of anything he gave me.

Slapped myself in the face pathetically when he got up to the printer. "Why. Are. You. Like. This? Get a grip. Come on, stop being a pussy."

* * *

We ordered pizza. No, he ordered pizza. I couldn't afford that. I couldn't eat more than one slice. Still felt sick. Once he'd finished eating I curled up on the sofa, head on his lap, hugged my knees to my chest. He put on a random Netflix show on his laptop. We watched that for a bit. I started laughing, I didn't even find it funny. Just surprised by the memories it triggered.

"What's so funny?" he asked sceptically. It was funny, but not as funny as I was making out.

I rubbed my eyes, "that happened to me once."

"What did?"

"When I was a teenager my brother punched molly out of my mouth," I stopped laughing. "It's not even funny. It hurt. I was so pissed."

"Jeez, when did you start on all this stuff?" he asked, tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I don't even remember. Probably about, I don't know, thirteen, fourteen? Give or take. I don't know."

He sighed sympathetically, "no wonder you're having such a rough go at it."

"I know."

The sun was going down, the light on the wall growing dimmer, more golden. That was my favourite part. When it cast shades of gold and amber across the world. Made everything pretty. Dreamlike. My concentration drifted from the show we were watching. I chewed at a hangnail, gave my body something to do. The sweats were subsiding slightly, shakes not as bad. I knew they'd come back, but for now it was nice. Alex had his hand weaving through my hair, muttering sorry if he thought he hurt me when his fingers got trapped in a tangle. It didn't hurt, not really. He was being gentle in comparison to others. It was nice, soothing. My heartbeat staggered once, I hissed at the burn. Hand rushed to my chest instinctively, tugged at the material of my shirt.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just… my chest hurt." I rubbed circles on the area, tried to breathe properly at least twice.

"Are you okay, though?"

I nodded, "it happens all the time."

"That doesn't sound healthy."

"Yeah, well years of abuse does that to you." _Which abuse? _Shut up.

I sat up, leaned on his shoulder. Felt heavy, tired. My vision swirled, I gripped my arm tight. _Stay in the present, dickhead. _Pressed into his side, closer. Needed to make sure he was really there. That I was really there. Tried to keep my focus on the laptop screen. Nothing but the laptop screen. Not the close proximity and how it made my face hot. Not how he smelt like coffee and rosewood. Not how he was breathing, slow and steady, then a few bursts of quick ones. Was he nervous, too? His hand was tapping on his leg in a rhythmic beat. I reached for it before I knew I was. Held it still. He turned to me, confusion carved into his eyes, lips curling up in surprise. Oh, if my face wasn't hot before, it certainly was now. _What are you doing? Idiot. _

He held himself up with his elbow resting on the back of the sofa, body turned towards me. Biting his bottom lip, trying to figure me out. _Good luck with that. _We were really close. Could feel his breath, blowing hairs into my face, tickling my nose. His face melted into a smile, eyes shifted down.

"What?"

He licked his lips, trying to contain himself, grin breaking through regardless.

He put one hand on the side of my face, drawing circles with his thumb, "I'm just having a difficult time trying not to kiss you."

His hands were warm, soft, gentle. I brought my hand to rest on top of where he'd placed his, pushed into his touch. My mouth was dry, nerves kicking in. I looked at him again. I really wanted him. Like, right now. Silently asked for him to make the first move. Hoping he could read what I wanted in my face. He bit his lip again, as though unsure of himself. Then he leaned in. I held my breath, met him half-way. He moved his hand to the back of my neck, I pushed forward. He tasted me, exploring every part of my mouth, tongue asking for more. I granted him access. Fell submissive to his dominance. He pushed back, lustful and longing. He chuckled each time we pulled back for breath, brought one leg over, straddled me. I leaned back in the sofa, let him take the lead. I whimpered when he left my mouth, started trailing kissing along my jawline. Sucking in places, lapping his tongue. Moaned when he found a spot on my neck. His hand rubbed my chest, comforting, knew this was new to me.

When he finally pulled away, he brushed all of my hair back, pecked me once more tenderly on the lips. He got up, made us both tea. I was deep in subspace, neither here nor there. Just on the edge of existence.

He let me lean on him again until we decided it was late. We both got in his bed, sheets cool. I was sweating again. Body used to having something to knock me out at night. I held the pillow tight in my arms, sideways. A makeshift stuffed toy. Conscious of the room moving. _No, that's you. You're the one trembling. Again. Honestly, it's embarrassing. What's wrong with you? _If Alex noticed he didn't say anything. It must have been annoying. It was annoying me. I wished he would tell me I was being annoying. That I was irritating him. That I was a waste of space and should go home. Away from him. That he didn't want me there.

I sniffed, wiped my face. He was snoring lightly, sleeping. _Don't wake him up just because you're a pathetic human. _Twisted a loose curl around my finger like my mom used to do to calm me down. It wasn't working. Everything just got more difficult. Difficult to sleep. Difficult to shut down. Difficult to concentrate. Difficult to calm down. Difficult to breathe. Difficult to think. Difficult to _not _think. Thinking the same things over and over and over. I wanted to stop the cycle. _If you just had a little bit like you wanted to you wouldn't feel like this. You'd feel good. Even if you don't deserve it. _

I clawed at my skin. Itching. Crawling. Gripped down hard on the flesh. What little of it there was left anyway. Shakes came in waves. Smaller gaps between as each minute passed. Muscles contracting restlessly. Alex rolled over. I tried so hard to stop that it hurt. Choked trying not to breathe so loud, so heavily. Just couldn't get the oxygen to my lungs. They burned so fucking bad. I screwed my eyes up, bit down hard on my shoulder to silence myself. Room getting lighter then darker, lighter then darker.

Panic set in. Heart working overtime. I needed to get out of the bed. Couldn't move. If I moved I might have woken Alex up. If I didn't I was gonna have a full blown attack and wake Alex up. Lose lose situation. I was in deep shit. Moved onto my back, held my hand over my mouth, other arm wrapped tight around my chest. _Yeah, because that's really gonna stop it. _I was making too much noise. I looked over to check the time. Too early to get up. Too late to try and sleep.

Eyes shut. Broken images of family members staring at me. Brothers, sisters. Watching me fall apart. Not knowing how or if they could help me. Stood in the corner of the living room, not allowed to sit down, not allowed to make noise. Not allowed to cry. Not allowed to scream. Even when the world faded to dark around me, looking at it through a blurred lens. Even when the convulsions came so strong it knocked the wind out of my lungs, made my legs give way beneath me. _Deserved the punishment. Horrible son. Shaming family name._

Jolted where I lay, thought I was falling. Hitting the harsh wooden floor of that living room. About to receive worse punishment. Gasping for breath, eyes wide. Hands pressing into my eye sockets.

"Hey, hey, come on, hey. It's okay. Sit up. You're okay," a voice cooed.

I didn't move. _You woke him up. Idiot. Stupid pathetic idiot. _I recoiled from his touch. Burned my skin. Felt like fire. Still had my hands over my eyes. Watched the weird shapes. He was sat on my side of the bed, I could feel the pressure weighing down on that side. _He'd had to get out of bed because of you. He was asleep and fine and you had to go and fuck it up, didn't you?_

"Try and sit up for me?" he asked softly.

I shook my head. Didn't want to. Didn't want to do anything. Wanted none of what was happening to happen. I lowered my hands from my eyes, covered my mouth and nose, breathed into the sweating palms.

"What do you need?"

Didn't trust my voice. Thought I'd explode into a mess of sobs and hiccups like the pussy I'd always been. I knew what I needed. I needed my meds. But I didn't have my meds. They were at home. Where I would have been if I wasn't such a mess.

"Water?" Shook my head. "Try and tell me?"

I tried to get another big breath in, "I need my- it's at home."

"What's at home? Your meds?" I nodded. "What do you usually take?"

"P- uh, Prozac."

He stood up, "will you be alright on your own for like five minutes? I'll get it for you."

I tried to say no. Couldn't let him do that. That was too much to ask of him, even by my standards. He found my keys in my jacket and gave me a once over. _Fucking concern. Don't deserve it. Jesus. _He grimaced, like he didn't want to leave me.

I waited for the front door to close, tried to sit up. Hurt so much. Cracked my knuckles, clenched too tight in a fist. Too hot. I tried to open a window. It was already open. I was just an idiot. Slid down the wall of his bedroom, curled into a heap at the bottom, knees brought up. Followed the same pattern it always did. Few more minutes and it would probably have been over.

I needed to be sick. This mixed with the withdrawal made it unbearable. I staggered to the bathroom, dropped down in front of the white ceramic and let everything come up. Acidic. _Well, maybe if you ate more it wouldn't burn your throat. _I held my hair at the top of my head, managed to get most of it out of the way, not all of it. Well, shit. That was going to get matted and smell and I'd have to take a shower and I didn't want to have a shower, I wanted to die. Be numb.

Body quaked on the cold bathroom floor. Dripping of the tap too loud and menacing. Drip. Drip. Drip. Tick. Tick. Tick. One second by one second. Endless convulsions of agony. If this was life, I dreaded to think what Hell was like. It couldn't have been worse. Seemed the better option. _Always an option. _

"John?"

I couldn't answer, too busy. My fingers were white, gripping the toilet seat and my hair. My knees felt like they were red raw. Didn't think logically before I threw myself on the floor like the attention-seeking drama queen I was. They were like that when I fell in the living room. Maybe I was still there. Maybe this wasn't real at all. I was still that scared little boy trapped in the south. No escape. I never got out. I was going to pay.

Mixtures of cold sweats, trembling from the attack, violent shaking from the sick, jolts from the tears. I knew I looked a mess. _Bet he wished he never asked you to stay over now. Should have just let you suffer at home where no one else had to deal with you. Left to act like a prick. A wimp. A pussy. A selfish little boy. _

I sobbed harder when I felt him kneeling beside me, holding my hair back for me. Choked. Threw up again. Thought I was going to break the ceramic seat with the intensity I was gripping it with. Either the toilet or my own hands. He was whispering something in my ear, rubbing my back. I couldn't hear him. Just that fucking tap. Drip. Drip. Drip. Louder and louder. _Liquor dripping from a broken bottle on the kitchen floor. Kids crying. Mom screaming. Dad shouting. Me. Pain. Again and again. Flames bursting through my skin. Hot metal pressed to my back. Sausages burning. Screaming. Kicking. Punching. Useless. White hot. Agonising. Crying. Apologising. Shameful. Pathetic. Worthless. Piece of shit. _

Then silence. Nothing but quiet ringing in my ear. Indistinct. Warped.

"John," Alex said; it was loud now.

"Sorry."

We were leaning against the cold glass door of the shower now. I didn't have my head hanging over the toilet. He had a glass of water in his hand. When did he get that? I didn't know he'd left me. Tap still dripping. He handed me the yellow pot he went to my apartment for. I took what I needed. Swallowed it dry. Drank the water after. Washed out my mouth. Tasted metallic. Toxic. Sickness. He told me to sit on the counter. I did it without question. Didn't say anything. No more talking tonight. He dampened a cloth, put the tiniest bit of shampoo in it. I stared at the back wall of the bathroom. Refused to look at him. Couldn't even look down at my own pathetic body. Didn't want to see anything that meant this was real. He wet my hair from the sink, scrubbed at the dirty strands of it with the cloth. Rung it out, put conditioner in next. Rinsed it out. Dried my hair with a towel. Combed through it. I didn't even flinch at the worst of the pulls. The tangles. Kept my eyes forward. He brought it all back, braided it down the centre and tied it off.

He held me when we somehow got back to bed. I didn't even know we'd left the bathroom, then suddenly I was feeling drowsy in his arms. Counted his heartbeat till the dark consumed me.

* * *

Ringing phone. _Ugh, leave me alone. _Francis kept calling me. Almost everyday for the past month. Each time I sent it to voicemail, never listened to them. Ignored his texts. I was trying to work in my office. Silenced my phone. Insistent buzzing on the desk. Locked the phone in a drawer. Still heard the buzzing. _Fuck's sake. _

"What do you want?" I spat.

"Oh, hello. Nice of you to answer. How are you doing, Johnny?"

"Get to the point, Fran. I'm busy."

He giggled down the phone, I rolled my eyes, put my pencil down to lean back in my chair. Cracked open a window. There'd been an accident in the street below my building, whole road closed off.

"I was just wondering if you were coming over."

I scrunched my brows together, "why?"

"Can't a guy miss his friend?" he said it in a tone I couldn't decipher. I didn't like it.

"Not interested. I don't care what you've got planned, I'm not like that anymore."

"Don't be so boring. Louis'll be here, too?"

I walked around my office, paced wall to wall. "I don't care." _You do care._

"Come and have fun. Don't you wanna get out? We haven't seen you in ages."

_You know you want to, you miss having friends. _"I'll come over for half an hour. Don't start shit. No drinking, no smoking. Deal?"

"Me? I'd never do those things. I'm offended you even asked. See you in a minute."

The call ended and I groaned. What was I doing? This was not the plan. The exact opposite of getting better. I was trying to stay sober and going to a crack den. _Idiot. What's wrong with you? _I found myself logging out of my computer and pulling my shoes on, calling a cab.

* * *

"Johnny!" He swooped forward and grabbed my hand, pulling me inside. The smell hit me like a punch in the face. Loud music. Terrible music. _Go home. _"Louis just went ou- wait!"

"What?" He was pulling me into the room. Few other people were there. I vaguely knew them. People at parties I'd been to. Not really on a first name basis. Couldn't pick them out. Loud music was bursting through the apartment, out onto the street. Thought I could hear something. It was a… party. Great, just what I needed. It was like the room was swarming with ghosts. No, it was smoke. Weed.

Empty packets all over the floor. Pills dotted around, some getting crushed. _Get the fuck out. _Francis held my hand tightly, pulled me into a mostly abandoned corridor of their apartment. Dopey grin, half a joint tucked behind his ear. I wasn't quick enough to get away. He pinned my wrists against the wall, breathed close to my neck.

"I've missed you," he purred. Giggled in my ear. I tried to pull away, boxed off against the wall. Surrounded by people who didn't give a shit.

"Don't be a dick. Just- move!" I was pissed. Bordering on panicked. _Why do you never trust your gut? _

"You don't look so good- you're still fucking hot but- damn, Johnny! You've lost weight, haven't you? I'm scared I'm gonna break you. I'm sure you'll like it, though. You always did like- hey, none of that."

I kneed him, missed where I was aiming but caught his thigh. He looked disappointed. _Joke's on him, I'd seen that face before on many people. People whose opinions I cared far more about. _He forced his lips on me. I inhaled sharply, disgusted. Violated. Pushed him back. He looked at me, licked his lips. Predator and prey. Then he was laughing again, let go of me.

"Don't look so serious. More where that came from if you want it. You know where to find me- wait, hey, want one of these? They work fucking miracles, maybe they'll make you fun again. That'll be the day."

He had a round, pinkish-white pill in his hand. I'd seen it before. Had it before. Shouldn't get caught up in that again. I scoffed at him, begrudgingly turned away. Barged past his shoulder and pushed my way out of the apartment. Ignored his voice calling after me. Got in the first cab I saw and went home.

_You know where it all is. Just a little bit. _Nope. Not doing it. I went into my office and locked the door, less opportunities if I put physical boundaries between me and the box in my room. But now I didn't know what to do. I couldn't concentrate on work. I opened the cupboard with all my abandoned projects. Old sketchbooks. Few canvases. Cheap paints. Expensive paints that had almost run out. Age-beaten brushes. I got them all out. Spread them across the little workbench in the corner of my office, right under the window. Lit a few candles. Blasted some music. _Decent _music. Not whatever shit they were playing at the… no. I was going to forget about that. As far as anyone else was concerned, I never went. Was never there. Was never tempted. I squirted some of the black acrylic over the canvas. Needed water. _Locked in the office. _I had to make it quick, those were the rules. I fumbled with the lock, got a pot of water and relocked myself in the small room.

I'd turned my phone off. Already I'd received calls from Francis the second I'd left. Ignored them all. Blocked his number. Had to forget about them. They weren't really my friends. I knew that. _If you didn't have them, who did you have? _I had Alex, I had Peggy. They were good friends. They cared about me. _Do they? _Yes. _Really? _Probably. Didn't matter. Not thinking right now. Painting.

I let the black paint dry in the air, quick enough. I hadn't used a lot of water. I found a finer brush and sketched in white. Could go over it if I fucked up, which was inevitable. Mapped out the main features. Tall, oval vase. Was gonna be blue. Sunflowers. Self explanatory. Mom loved sunflowers. Her favourite. _This one's for you, mom. _When I was mostly happy with the outlines for the work, I chanced the colours. Took a deep breath, like I was really committing to it. I was. I'd procrastinated doing something like this for ages. Money was tight, didn't want to mess up when the materials were so pricey. Did the stems first. Greeny brown. Played with tone, added some dried leaves. Like I remembered them from back home. Next was the flower heads. Difficult. Lots of seeds. Texture. I was terrible at recreating texture. I tried desperately. Had the go over it a few times, let it dry, tried again. Ended up searching through the cupboard for the, what were they called? Cotton buds, on the end of a toothpick type thing. Cotton tips. Q-tips! Fucking Q-tips. I found them and tied a few together, dipped in the different tones of colour. The second I put them to the canvas I knew it was going to be a life saver. It looked so much better like that. I smiled to myself. Hummed along to the music. Petals were a lot simpler. Finished them easy enough. Then I added the blue to the vase. It was going to be patterned. All of mom's vases were patterned. Abstract. She loved abstract. I recreated from memory, hand - surprisingly to me - unshaking. Steady for the first time in weeks. Just for this one task.

I needed to do it more. Loved working on something and forgetting everything else. Even if it was only for a few hours. It was a hobby I'd fallen out of. I wanted to get back into it.

I stood back from the canvas before me, indents in my arms from where I'd leaned on the workbench. I laughed. I did it. It was better than I'd thought it would have been. Still felt like something was missing. The vase didn't look right. I scrutinised it, stared. Tried to figure it out. The shading was off to the rest of the piece. I was glad the paint on the vase hadn't had as much chance to dry, I could possibly redeem it.

I added more paint, fixed the tone. Then I could put the brush down, pack all of the art supplies away and leave the canvas to dry properly. I sat back in my chair and cracked my wrists, yawned. The sun had gone down. I'd barely noticed. Too occupied. I turned my phone back on. Responded to the few messages from Peggy. I'd missed a call from Alex. Called him back.

"Hey."

He had a sound of relief in his voice, "hey."

"You called?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did. Just glad you're not ignoring me."

I made a perfect circle shape with my mouth, "oh, shit. Sorry. Yeah, yeah. My bad. I turned my phone off, forgot you said you were gonna call. Sorry."

"It's not a problem. What've you been up to?"

Wasn't gonna talk about the Francis incident. It was nothing. Nothing happened. He didn't need to know. "I've been doing some painting. You know. Keeping busy and stuff."

"That's good! Really good." His voice betrayed his nerves.

I frowned, "what's wrong?"

"I wanted to just- I wanted to ask you something."

Shit. Did he know? Was he going to ask about today? Was he gonna ask if I'd fallen off the wagon. Because I hadn't. I'd had one drink since I'd stayed at his house. One glass. And it wasn't even strong. Plus it had diet coke in it, so it was even more acceptable.

"Shoot," I hesitated, held the air in my throat.

"I was wondering… if you wanted to go for lunch… with me- obviously- uh, tomorrow?"

I almost laughed in relief. But then came the nerves. Did he mean, like… a date? Or was it just two friends? _You're a little more than two friends at this point, dumbass. _

"I- you know what, yeah. I'd like that. Tomorrow tomorrow?"

Could feel his mood shifting through the phone. He was happier. Made me smile. "Yeah, tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

"I'll see you there," I grinned.

Could tell he was grinning, too, "yeah. See you there."

I put the phone down and smiled like a dork, twisting in my office chair. Excitement bubbled within me, making a change from the usual nauseous swirling. Well, it still sort of felt like that, but a different kind of swirling. Not dread. Adrenaline. Not bad adrenaline. Good adrenaline. I felt brave enough to unlock the office. Brewed a pot of coffee, prepared a tea. Peggy was coming over tonight. Her turn to 'babysit me'. She hated when I said that. But it's what she was essentially doing. Alex, too. Though he'd be the last to admit it. She was later than usual.

I left the two mugs on the coffee table and set up the show we were watching ready for us to just press play. Keys turned in the door.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late. I think there was an accident?" she questioned.

I nodded, "think so. Saw bits outside. But you're perfect. I made you tea."

She smiled sweetly. I scooched up on the sofa, let her find her place snuggled in the crook of my arm. She sipped at her tea, reached forward for the pieces of chocolate we had out. She offered me one and I lazily opened my mouth. She rolled her eyes and put it on my tongue. I smirked and moved my hands subtly. I bit back a laugh when I was in the right place. She had no idea. I started tickling her in the ribs. Knew that was the spot. She exploded into a fit of giggles, I joined in. She kept shouting my name. She flicked me on the arm when we'd settled down again.

"That was rude. I'm going to get revenge," she deadpanned. I laughed again. "What's got you in such a good mood, hmm? Not that it's a bad thing."

I turned to face her, "I think… that I might possibly have a date?"

Her face glowed, eyes crinkling at the impact of her smile, "oh my God, Jack! Who is it?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, face getting hot, "remember that guy who was here ages ago?"

She nodded, looking at me curiously, "Alex? I think it was?"

"Yeah. Oh, and that was hella awkward of you, by the way. Just a red rover cockblock of Peggy."

She put her hand to her mouth, a look of slight horror, "I didn't- you weren't in the middle of- about to- you know…"

"No, no, no… no. We weren't… I don't think we were anyway. Just- it was- we were just kissing?"

I could tell she was bursting with questions. She didn't throw them at me in her Peggy way, however, just snuggled back into my side.

"Well, I think he's very nice. And as long as he's nice to you-"

"He is. I promise. You can put your axe down. No revenge murders required."

* * *

The tiny café huddled, despondent, amongst the huge city buildings. But to me it was the most hopeful place in the whole of New York. Freshly toasted bread, coffee beans and salted caramel muffins. Scents of fresh food hit me the second we walked into the small café. Clatter of cutlery against ceramic plates. Chatter of people, all different types of people. We sat in a booth together. I half-heartedly scanned over the menu. I wasn't hungry. Felt nauseous. No change there, apparently. They'd said it would be like that for a few weeks - maybe months - at the clinic. It could have been the nerves having time to swell last night when Peggy had gone home. I kept thinking about the situation I was in now. Rethinking. Overthinking.

It was Alex. I knew Alex. I had nothing to be nervous about. We liked each other. We'd told each other that. We'd kissed. I'd known him years. But suddenly this change in our relationship, the most platonic thing in the world to something possibly - hopefully - a little more. Maybe it was how fucking attractive he was. Every time I saw him, it was like there was another feature I hadn't noticed before waiting to pop out and leave me breathless.

Alex and I used to joke around constantly. Always teasing each other at work. Playful. We were almost always in hysterics. But I'd never really noticed how ridiculously adorable his smile was. Radiating goodness, contagious. Fucking dimples. It was hardly legal to have a smile like that. It was something simple. We were talking, I couldn't remember what about, nonsense. Then he smiled, and fuck me, it was like my heart was beating out a samba.

"Are you ready to order?" A short blonde waitress said around a yawn, notepad in hand.

Alex looked at me expectantly.

"Uh, just a latte… for me… thanks. Alex?" _Wow, you didn't mess that up for once. Well done, loser. _

He ordered a black americano and the waitress busied herself getting other tables' orders, disappeared behind the counter. I drummed my fingers on the table, fidgeted in the cushioned booth. Red leather-type material. Ripped in the corner. Not the most comfortable thing to sit on in the world, vast improvement from the clinic chairs, though.

"You not hungry?" he asked me.

I shook my head, "not really. Sorry. You could have got something."

He looked down, "no, I'm not really hungry either."

A few minutes later and we had our drinks in front of us, aroma of fresh coffee beans and creamy milk. I always liked café coffee better than the stuff I made myself. I didn't really make an effort with it. Too lazy.

It was nice, piping hot. Perfect. I burnt my mouth with it, didn't flinch. Used to it. Liked it. It was bitter. Taste lingered. Alex was doing the same, sipping at the dark liquid before him. He had lots of lines on his face. Like he frowned a lot. I rarely saw him frown. Always smiling. We were young, too young to have lines like that naturally. He stared into his cup, his gaze fixed. Thinking. He was always thinking.

He looked at me sceptically, "what?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. Are you okay?"

His eyes grew wide and he looked taken aback by the question, "yeah, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

I shrugged, "you look like something's on your mind. I'm just trying to have a little compassion."

"Well, don't try too hard. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

I scoffed, leaned back. Then we were both laughing. That's the way I liked it. Felt more comfortable. Found our roots. Common ground. Taking the piss out of each other with the promise of no hard feelings. Lighthearted fun. No frowning allowed. Silly. He bit his lip and leaned on his palms, elbows pressed into the table.

"Tell me, Laurens. What are you thinking?"

Folding my arms over my chest, I shrugged, "I don't know. Nothing in particular." _How I really like being around you and every time I see you my heart does cartwheels because you have such a pretty face and a gorgeous laugh and I really want to kiss you again. _"Just... stuff?"

"You're a bad liar, you know that don't you?" he giggled. _Cutest giggle. _

"It's been brought to my attention, yeah. But I'm super good at evading the truth. I'm like a politician."

Laughing again. All the laughter. I blushed. We were probably bringing lots of attention to ourselves. Suddenly the volume of our communication sent waves of embarrassment through me. Being so open; even if I never made it audible what I was thinking, it felt like everyone knew. Emotionally vulnerable. I was on a date… with a guy. In public. I'd never done that. Hadn't even really come out. Only to Peggy. Alex knew by chance of circumstances. I probably wouldn't have told him otherwise. Wouldn't have had the courage to even go on a date if he hadn't asked me to. I wanted to go back home. But I wanted to stay with him. _Bring him with you, idiot. You won't have to worry about everyone else if it's just you two. Do what you want at home, no one's gonna judge you._

I smiled, noticed he'd finished his drink. Perfect excuse. "Hey, do you wanna come back to mine? We can- I don't know, it's up to you- but-"

"Yeah?" he quirked a brow, glint of curiosity - mischief - glossed over his eyes.

I finished my drink, paid for us both, ignored his arguments. He drove us back to my apartment, excitement and nerves all fighting viciously in the civil war of my mind. The second the door closed I was connecting our lips, pushed him up against the wall. He chuckled into it, fought back for dominance. I didn't give in at first, but then he had his arm snaking its way around my waist, climbing up the back of my shirt. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted and in that moment I was cool with it.

We moved to the couch. Kicked off the remote. He leaned over the top of me, hand cupping the side of my face. Straddled my hips where I lay down, moved down to my collar bone. Sucked along the line, gnawing at the flesh until it was sore and tender. My hand crawled up his back, feeling his warm skin, sent waves pulsating through me. He pulled away for a moment, caught his breath and kissed me again, deep and meaningful. Passionate and colourful. Everything good. Nothing like he'd done before. Nothing like anyone had done before.

I propped myself up on an elbow, allowing myself to get closer, take back some of the control. Could still taste the coffee on his lips, his mouth. Slipped his tongue into my mouth. Delving into the intoxication of feeling, sensuality. I pulled away and concentrated on the soft flesh under his ear, where his jaw met his neck. Worked on it until it was red and purple, my mark blooming on him. He let out a low moan in his throat, vibrating through my entire body. The friction of his body moving, grinding against my groin. I bit my lip, doubt kicking in. Knew he'd noticed the growth in my jeans. Aware to his own. He interlocked our fingers, touched his forehead to mine.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, panting.

I hesitated, "I- it's-"

"It's okay. I know you don't want to, we don't have to."

"No. No, I do. I do _want _to. It's just- just not-"

He smiled, kissed my head, "not now?"

"Yeah," I breathed. Kissed him again.

* * *

He stayed over, took me to the clinic in the early afternoon. That's when we both woke up. Just in time to swear a lot and pull some jeans on; my belt was naturally in the mood for a game of hide and seek. He found it for me, strewn amongst the sea of clothing which was my bedroom floor. I seriously needed to clean it. He squeezed my hand, pressed his lips to the back of it - to which I giggled like a love drunk teenage girl - and said he'd pick me up when it had finished.

I waited until he'd driven off before I let my nerves kick in fully. Weeks of the same process and still it made me feel so vulnerable and weak. Hated the idea of it. Talking about why I was a fuck up and why I shouldn't be a fuck up, but it was still okay to be the fuck up I was as long as I tried to stop being the fuck up.

I walked up to the door, stopped when I saw a sign. _Group cancelled until further notice. Sorry for any inconvenience. _Well, shit. My conscience was saved from the painful drilling which was group guilt. I didn't have to pretend to pay attention for at least a week. But now I had just under an hour of time to kill. Didn't want to text Alex just yet, didn't want to bother him with driving back and forth for something stupid like this. I didn't even want him to drop me off and pick me up in the first place. But he'd insisted. Ever since I started going.

I wandered the city streets, passing by the small businesses and big businesses, intimidating skyscrapers and tiny coffee shops. Everywhere blooming with different colours and smells. In the crowds of thousands I'd already accepted my fate of getting lost at some point. Stopped paying attention to where I was going. Zoned out to the sound of traffic and construction and people. I kept walking until I found a familiar coffee shop, walked in. Ordered a drink. Stepped out again, tried to make my way back to the clinic in time to meet with Alex.

Knowing where I was, I took the quicker path, less people. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept my eyes on the ground. Grey sidewalk speckled with bits of white, gum. Kinda looked like someone got a big paint brush and flicked white paint over the street.

"Hey!" Someone slurred.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Knew exactly who the voice belonged to. _Really? Again. Come on, universe. Pull it together. _I tried to keep walking like I hadn't heard but he tugged on my wrist.

"Are you- were you ignoring- hey, Louis' here! C'mon," he pulled me along with him into a back alley.

"Not today, Fran. I've got things to do."

"Don't be silly. I'm way better than things- hey, do you want something? We've got loads- Louis, do you have a drink? I want a drink."

_Bad place to be. Get out. _I shrugged him off, got him a bottle of water that I had in my bag when Louis shook his head. Francis eyed the drink suspiciously, sniffed it and frowned.

"It doesn't smell like booze. Booze. Y'know, booze is a really weird word when you-"

I scowled at him, "it's not booze. What are you doing around here?"

He giggled, "me and Louis are having fun, silly. Won't you join us? I promise you won't want to run away this time."

"Go home. Both of you," I said. "Stay clean... for once. It's not that bad."

He brought his hand to my face, having his height as leverage over me. I didn't move. _Weak. Pathetic. Inferior. Idiot. _"Johnny, sweetheart, sobriety is overrated. I mean, look what it did to you- we used to- you used to- remember when you were fun? I remember when you were fun, now look at you. So boring. I think you'd chill the fuck out if you just… Louis, I think we should get pizza, I really want pizza… wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah! Yeah, no, I think you'd feel so much better if you gave in again. It's not the end of the world. It's fun! Don't be such a pussy, it's not like you're gonna die- hey, Lou, I'm thinking we go to the club again tonight though, huh?"

"Up to you, man. I'm cool," Louis shrugged, indifferent.

I pulled out of his grasp, turned on my heel and walked away. Hoped I went unnoticed, by Fran at least anyway. Was I really so boring now? I never thought I was fun to begin with. I must have been so so fucking boring now.

The car park by the clinic was empty aside from one car, his. I breathed deeply before I approached it. Conscious that I smelled like the very thing I was meant to be avoiding. How was I going to talk my way out of that? _Oh hey, Alex, just saw some old friends who are the reason I am like I am, but don't worry, I didn't do anything and yes you're just going to have to take my word for it. _I pulled open the car door and hopped in, bracing myself for the worst. He brought his brows together like he was going to ask me a question but shook his head as though shaking the thoughts from his mind, started the car. I rubbed my face and sank in the seat.

"How come you weren't at the group?" he asked slowly. Voice afraid of being disappointed. _I knew that one._

I shrugged, fidgeted with my hoodie string, "it wasn't on today."

He nodded, "you could have told me, I'd have come to pick you up."

"I- you'd driven off and I didn't want to bother you again. I went for a walk, so it's fine."

"Okay… what do you want to do now, then?"

I huffed out a breath, "I dunno. Whatever. What did you have in mind?"

"We could check out a movie or something?" he suggested.

He passed me his phone so I could look up some screening times. I didn't know what to choose, neither did Alex. Some of the things I had been dying to see, I still couldn't choose, but I argued it didn't matter because I would be with Alex, and that was good enough for me. I read out the titles from my own made up list and he picked one at random. We drove to the theater and he bought us some snacks, a big box of popcorn and cheesy nachos. I felt like a kid again, hadn't done anything like this in that long at least. I used to love nachos, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had them.

We sat, engrossed, barely noticing how the popcorn failed to make it to our mouths. The screen fell to black and my body went rigid. The part of the cinematic experience I never could get used to. The silence never lasted long in these settings, depriving us of our senses of light and sound just long enough to heighten the tension, to peak our fear. Then came the contrast as obnoxiously bright lights flashed on the screen, the speakers at maximum volume. I shuddered and leaned back in the seat, waiting for the movie to start properly.

There's something about seeing a movie in a theater that makes them so much better, magical. Any script writer would dream to have their art displayed on the silver screen. I was happy just being there, never mind the actual plot. It was intoxicating.

Alex and I kept brushing our legs against each other under the cover of darkness. He was smirking, I could tell. I didn't need to be able to see to know. I brought my legs away and shifted in my seat so that I could bring them up, tucked underneath my chin. The scenes in front of me were so visually satisfying - everything from the set design, the costume, the _lighting, oh my God, the lighting - _it was hard to take my eyes away from it.

Elevated, I practically bounced down the street back to the car. Alex walked behind me chuckling softly to himself.

"What are you laughing at?" I walked backwards so I could face him.

He stopped laughing, smiled, "you seem in a better mood. It's just cute, that you're happy I mean. You're you. Maybe I should take you to the movies more often."

I shrugged, "I wouldn't object to that."

We drove away from the city, sat in the car together for a while. Not talking, just being together. Alex placed his arm around me and I leaned closer to him. The gentle touch of his arm on my neck made my back tingle. We craned our necks to look through the sunroof at the stars, trying to find the different constellations. We didn't need to speak to each other, because in our own way we were communicating. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, kissed the skin. Slipped my hand up the back of his shirt, the other resting high on his leg.

He cleared his throat and grinned, "you wanna go home or something?"

I nodded, put my head on his shoulder, "Yours. I want you."

"I'm right here."

I rolled my eyes, "you know what I mean."

* * *

Tugged at the hem of his shirt, relished in the sound of his low chuckle, giggles. He complied to my wants, lifted his arms so that I could take off his shirt, cast it aside onto the floor. He leaned forward, kissing down my neck, shifting in the bed until he could push me back into the headboard.

"You're definitely sure you want to do this?" he breathed, hand on my chest, the other arm around my neck.

I nodded, thumbed at the waistband of his sweats.

"Because if you're uncomfortable we can wait a little longer. Not a big deal."

I answered him by pulling him fully into my lap, kissed him, heavy, full body kiss. He pulled out my hair tie, light grip on the ringlets. Pulling my head back for more leverage. He resurfaced for air, blindly reached over me to his side table drawer, took a bottle of lube and a condom. My heart practically stopped in the excitement. And nerves. But now it was mostly excitement. Lust. Alex moved from my lap for a moment as I kicked off my jeans, discarded my shirt. Left in just my boxers. He looked at me with scrutiny. I felt my mouth go dry.

"What is it?" I asked, self-consciously folding my arms over my chest.

"Have you ever- with a guy, I mean?"

"Once," I looked down, grimaced. It wasn't a good once, one I wanted to forget.

He bit his lip in thought, consideration. Gave the condom to me, "you top."

"You want me to?"

"Mhm. Stay where you are, gimme a minute."

He pushed himself out of the bed, took the lube with him. I made my assumptions. Stayed where I was like he'd told me to, rolled the rubber on my growth, stroked myself nonchalantly until he came back. He walked in and my eyes scanned over his body. _Lord, give me strength. _He was well built, body as beautifully tanned as his face. He had a long scar on the right side of his abdomen, I couldn't remember why he had the scar. He noticed my staring and blushed.

He sat on the side of the bed and I leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled back and looked right into my eyes, like he was trying to read my mind. God, I hoped he wasn't.

"You're absolutely sure about this?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure about this. Are _you _absolutely sure about this? You seem very unsure."

He shook his head, "sorry, I know. I'm being annoying. I just don't want to- look, if you're down I'm down."

I let him push me back again, braced myself as he hovered over me, butterfly kissing my shoulder.

He guided my tip to his entrance, inhaled and lowered himself slowly. Hissed and wrapped his arms around my neck. He chuckled, voice rough and pained.

"Are you alright?" Let his nails dig into my back.

"I'm not- ha- it's just been a minute since I- I'm okay. You okay?"

I nodded. Concentrated on keeping my hips to the bed, resisting the urge to thrust up. Wanted to let him set the pace. I felt his walls tensing, warm, adjusting. I let him take his time. He breathed low and heavy by my ear, sent chills through me. Teased my shoulder, grazed his teeth against the skin. I ran my hands up and down his sides. He shuddered and kissed me, started to move. He was going slow. Testing the waters. I pulled his chin toward me, kissed his nose, looked up at his dopey grin, contagious. I shifted, letting him find a more comfortable angle before craning my neck up to find the right spot, where his jaw met his neck. Lapped my tongue at the area, sucking at the flesh. Quiet whimpers in my ear. I could've gotten high from just hearing him alone. I couldn't help it, I jerked upwards, meeting him half-way. He gasped, the sound changing into a groan of pleasure, I smirked to myself. He was pretty with his face scrunched up, a smile playing on his lips. I pressed my hand into his back and leaned forward, taking him with me so that he was on his back. He chuckled and buried his hand in my hair, a punishing tug that made me thrust deep, hands either side of his head.

He cupped my cheek with his hand, biting his bottom lip. Brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

I smiled, though I could have sworn my nerves showed through it, "is this… good?"

He laughed, "so good. You're so good, baby."

I grinned, so hard I could feel the muscles in my face growing tired.

My speed increased, hips going from a slow roll to separate thrusts. Each making him gasp. I ducked my head, giving his neck one last tease before I reached between us, stroking him up and down, relishing in the way he writhed beneath me, quivering with the intensity of the sensations. I groaned, felt my own orgasm approaching in a wave of colour and light and everything good. He clenched his walls around me and it was enough, buried myself once more before I was spent, collapsing onto his chest. He followed after me, gripping my shoulder and rolling my name off his tongue. I pulled out after catching my breath and settled beside him, tying off the condom and throwing it away.

Our skin was sticky against each other, covers lost in the sea of clothes. I buried myself in the crook of his arm, heartbeat fast and fluttery. Both panting. He pressed his lips to my forehead, pulled me closer to him. The room was hot, even with the window open. Or maybe it was just me in the afterglow, flooding with emotion and hormones. I felt like a teenager again. I giggled to myself against him and held my arms around his waist.

"Is this real life?" I asked.

"Real life," he assured.

"I like this."

"What? Fucking?"

"No. Well, yeah. But no, I mean this, I like being with you."

He smiled, "yeah. Me, too."

I drew shapes on his chest, moving down to his abdomen, traced the line of the scar. I frowned at it, feeling like I should have known what it was, like he'd told me before but I'd forgotten.

"Appendix," he answered my inner question.

"Shit, yeah. I did know that. When you were a kid, right?"

"Yup. When it went all weird."

"What do you mean? An appendix bursting isn't exactly not weird."

He smiled, "well, with most people, the appendix bursts and it hurts like hell but it's all at once and you either get it out or die. Quick and easy. But with mine, it didn't burst, it leaked. So it was essentially leaking the toxins into my system and I got really sick because it started slowly shutting down my organs. I was on the table for four hours and I think I might have died for a bit, but it's fine because I was all Arya about that shit, like 'not today'. And then the weirder bit is that they found I also had Crohn's so that just made the whole situation more complicated."

I looked at him in horror, "that's not weird, that's fucking traumatic." I rubbed the line again. "Wait, isn't Crohn's like, serious?"

He shrugged, "not that serious. It's more inconvenient. I get sick easier because my immune system's fighting all these imaginary diseases, and then I get bad fatigue with it. But other than that the only real issues are a risk of cancer and really bad infections. But they're rare, I think. I've had a few infections but not terrible. And I get check ups every few weeks. So I'm all good."

"Don't die, I like you."

"I'll certainly try not to. Just for you."

I yawned, holding Alex tighter.

"You tired?" he asked.

I nodded and he sat up. I pouted at the loss of contact and he stood up, taking the covers on the floor in his hands. Getting the hint, I got out of the way as he batted the fabric out, spreading it evenly over the mattress. We lay together again under the cover and I sighed contentedly. It was good. I felt good. No shaking, barely any sweats and no where near as bad cravings. I knew it wasn't something I could let my guard down to, they would all come back, probably ten times harder, but for now it was good and that's all I wanted to focus on.

I rolled onto my side. He flicked off the lights and buried his head in the pillow. The rift between sleep and awake became a contorted version of itself. I wasn't awake, but I wasn't asleep. I was in between. But I was tired as fuck. It wouldn't take long for me to be pushed in favour of unconsciousness. Alex's soft breathing lulled me into a sense of security and I could relax. I fell asleep smiling. That never used to happen before.

He leaned against the counter of the kitchen with his arms folded over his chest. He passed me the warm mug of coffee and smiled at me as I leaned on the breakfast bar across from him, tasting the drink he'd given me. He was staring at me, smiling.

"What?" The self-consciousness got to me.

"Nothing. I'm just really happy."

"Why?" I asked sceptically.

He laughed again, "I dunno, just you. You're getting better, and I'm proud of you. I'm just happy. You make me happy. Out of all the shit in my life, you're the good."

I blushed at the praise, moved over to him and kissed him lightly, not too quick or too long. Just enough to tell him how I felt without telling him. It said what I lacked in words. He hummed, grin wider.

"See? My cheeks hurt all the time now. What have you done to me?"

I shrugged, "I guess I just have that effect on people. What you gonna do about it, Hamilton?"

He put his drink down behind him and took mine off me, I opened my mouth to complain but he wrapped his arms around me instead. He was pushing me backwards, lips to mine in an instant. I giggled, yelped in surprise when he was lifting me onto the breakfast bar by the waist. I clung to him with my legs, hands on the back of his head, pulling him closer to me.

"I have to go to work," he grumbled.

"Blegh. Sucks to be you."

"Don't I know it. To be continued?"

"Definitely."

* * *

First night on my own in my own bed for a while… could have gone better. Waking up alone was strange, I hadn't realised how used to seeing Alex first thing in the morning I'd gotten. And waking up in the middle of the night alone was worse. The sweats had returned, I knew it. _You're in the room with what you want, what you need. Just take it already. _I rolled onto my stomach, pinning my arms under the pillow, blocking out my mind. I was so close, I could get better, I was going to get better.

The walk to work felt like Hell. It was like everyone was purposely trying to make my day a misery. The workmen drilled into the concrete, hammered metal rods, scraped against the ground. Cars screeched to a halt in the street. People cursed. Shouted. Down _every _\- literally _every _\- side street I walked down I could smell weed, saw dealers. Some of them I knew. It was like I was on trial; felt like Manolo facing the bull. I had to prove I could face my worst nightmare to whatever deity was in charge of being a dick.

"Sorry we couldn't... help, ma'am."

The lady hung up the phone midway through my sentence. I groaned and put my pen down. I could feel my energy levels leaving me like an ink stain into blotting paper. I was on my own in the office, having to answer everyone else's calls. Alex had taken a sick day, worked tirelessly to convince me it was a harmless bug, I didn't believe him. Everyone else was either on leave or sick. I hadn't stopped since I got here. Then one of the computers broke. Fantastic. _You're infectious, everything around you breaks. _

I unplugged the computer and opened it up, looked for the problem. I spent the next few hours trying to fix it, all the while handling the entire office's shitty clients. I blew my hair out of my face as I worked, trying to stop my hand shaking just long enough to hold the screwdriver still. By the time I'd finished replugging everything in, the light in the world had dimmed. Figuratively and literally. Time to go home. Finally.

My eyes were on the ground the whole way home, ignored all the shouting and loud of the city. Couldn't have cared less about the goings on around me. I shut myself in my room and went to bed, still fully clothed. My phone vibrated under my head, shocking me awake. 9:00PM. The alarm I'd set to wake me up loud and obnoxious. I pressed down on snooze and dropped the phone on the floor. Wasn't ready to get up. No matter how many plans I had. Peggy would get it. And if not, I could live with that. It hardly made a difference having one more person hate me. The world seemed to have a weird vendetta against me anyway, no matter what I did.

I forced myself out of bed. _One drink wouldn't kill. _I poured out a glass of rum, bit of coke. Sat at my keyboard and played a song. I couldn't remember the right key to press. It was at the back of my mind and I couldn't remember it. I tried to play the song in my head, analyse the morbid tune. What the fuck was it? Right, right, forget the chords, figure out the melody first.

_B C# D Db B E. A A… what. What next? _

I finished my drink and poured another. It pissed me off, why couldn't I remember what it was? My hand twitched hovering over the keys. Mind blank. I tried singing it in my head. Nothing was working. Finished the drink. Poured another. Again and again and again. Nothing. Still blank. I groaned and looked it up on my phone. Still couldn't find the fucking answer.

I stumbled into my bedroom, nearly falling over all of the clothes in there. Spilled the drink in my hand all over the floor. I laughed. _Yeah, that's about right. Fuck you, John. _Laughing morphed into crying and I bent down to clean it up. Used an old t-shirt to mop up the mess. The bedroom was a mess, clothes and trash littered everywhere. I made a bundle of clothes and dumped them back into the bottom drawer.

The drugs were in that drawer. I froze, stomach dropped. Sat on the floor, leaning against the foot of my bed, I was tempted. Really fucking tempted. _It's there, literally there. _When the pain came, my head made a million excuses to cave. Positives out-weighed the negatives. _You're hesitating. Why hesitate? You're just prolonging the inevitable. You're too weak to stay clean. Sobriety is overrated. You know you're gonna give in. You'll be numb again. _

I didn't want to be numb again. _What, so you want to feel like this all the time? Don't you miss the euphoria, getting to escape from this bullshit you call your own life? Would you rather off yourself instead? Everyone hates you, you might as well._

I got off the floor and walked out, slammed the bedroom door behind me. Taking what was left of the rum, I locked myself in my office, pushed the desk up against the door knowing I wouldn't have the energy to move it back. My mind seemed to shut down, hands clammy and glistening with sweat. Starved for air, but it wasn't oxygen I needed. I needed the contents of that box. I sat in the corner of the floor, took a swig of the bottle and pressed my head back. I needed to not be awake. Couldn't deal with this all night. Lying down I begged my brain to stop. _Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep. Please, God, make me go to sleep. _Praying didn't work. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted, louder than the voice in the back of my head. It had to be louder. _Please, stop thinking. Go to sleep. Go away…_

The aching in my head ebbed and flowed like the cold tide, but like the water on the coast, the pain never left. The phone next to my head screamed at me, my alarm. _Work. Shit. You're a mess. _My face was numb from the cold, hard floor. Mouth crusted and dry from the sticky saliva. I pushed myself off the ground, groaned as waves of agony rushed over me. Everything hurt. _You fucking deserve it after what you did._

I couldn't go to work like this. I pulled the desk away from the door, struggled with the shower. Blasted myself with hot water until my skin was hot and sore. I bargained with myself to have another drink, just to see if the hair of the dog would make the day go smoother. Sleep it off when I got home. I poured the nearest liquor I could find into my water bottle and wiped my face. Braved the streets to get to work.

"What an idiot," I muttered to myself, pushing open the doors to the offices.

I was late. Really late. I'd been counting on everyone pulling a sick day again, but more people were there than I'd expected. Everyone stared as I walked through the door. I tried to smile, but it probably didn't look right, walked to my desk and sat down. Alex cast his eyes up to me briefly, brought them back down to his screen.

"Hey," I said, keeping my voice as quiet as I could, lest I give away that I was considerably not work... appropriate? _Does that even make sense? _Shut up.

He mumbled a greeting back and typed something out. I blew out a breath into my palm and drank from my bottle. The bite of the liquor's pungent taste burned my throat. I'd forgotten it wasn't water. _You're being a fuck up, remember?_ I cleared my throat and loaded my computer, scanning through my emails; I'd done most of my work, I probably didn't even need to be here. I wanted to go home. _Yeah, so you can get high. _Fine, I couldn't go home. Best place to be was here, no matter how painfully slow the day was going to go.

"Feel- Feeling any better?" I asked.

Alex nodded, didn't look up, "yeah."

He didn't look like he was feeling any better. Heavy bags under his eyes, skin red and blotchy. I took a guess that he'd been up all night or at least the majority of it. He wiped his eyes and held his temples in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Coffee?" I offered.

He shook his head, "no… thanks. I'm good."

Okay. Definitely sick. My brows came together looking over him. His eyes were shiny, the light reflecting off of them. He bit into his knuckle and glared at the screen. He cleared his throat and pushed out of his chair, leaving his stuff behind as he walked past me.

"Wait, Alex?"

He wouldn't look at me. _Because he knows you broke your promise and he hates you because of it. _Carried on walking, pushing open the door to the bathroom. I frowned and downed some more of my _incredible _anti-headache concoction. My inbox stayed empty and I scrolled through Pinterest, looking for random aesthetic boards to pass the time. Alex had been gone for a while. Was he okay? _No, the person he was starting to like betrayed his trust. _Finished my 'water'.

Another five minutes passed and still nothing. I was about to get up when he returned, eyes locked on the ground, hand to his face. He didn't sit back down, gathered his things and stuffed them into his bag. He wiped his face, it looked like he'd been crying.

"Can you cover for me… please? I'm gonna go home."

"... yeah? What's-"

He cut me off, "I'll call you. Promise. I have to go."

I nodded, "okay. No, go on. Get some sleep or something."

"Mhm. Bye."

He threw his bag over his shoulder and walked out, taking quick strides. I swapped seats, sat behind his computer and went through his work. I'd done some of it yesterday, most of it. He hadn't done anything since. Even though he'd been here hours before I was. It wasn't like him. I shook the thoughts from my head and started on the next job he had. It was simple enough, even I could do it in the state I was in.

The walk home seemed quicker, I was thinking. It annoyed me, worried me, that I didn't know what was up with him. Not knowing meant it could have been anything. He could have been ill, maybe he was pissed at me for some reason, maybe he just didn't like me anymore, or maybe he knew I'd been- I was just drinking.

Not knowing was killing me. I shut all of the blinds in my apartment and took whatever essentials I needed from my bedroom. I wasn't sleeping in there tonight. I threw my bed covers over the sofa and made a makeshift bed with the pillows. I knew my back would curse me in the morning but my brain would thank me. _No, it won't. _I'd be thankful in the morning. _That's not true and you know it. _I wouldn't feel like shit. _Do you wanna bet?_

It got late and Alex still hadn't called me. Maybe he didn't mean he'd call tonight, he might've meant in a few days or something. It wouldn't have hurt to call him first, just to check he was alright. I dialled his number and waited for his voice to break through the ringing tone. It didn't, instead only the voicemail service. I groaned and dropped my phone on my chest, jumping out of my skin when it buzzed with a text from him.

**Sorry, can I call you back?**

It was one of the automated responses you could send, I knew that, but I still typed out a reply as if he'd actually taken the time to respond to me personally.

**Yeah, no problem. Just checking in on you. You seemed kind of off. Everything okay over there?**

He left it on read and I huffed, flicking my phone onto silent. I wanted to get an early night, to hopefully sleep off the withdrawal. _Fat chance of that. _Nevertheless, I shut my eyes and counted numbers until I could feel myself slipping away.

When I checked my phone in the middle of the night, I hadn't received any missed calls. No texts, no nothing. I could dimly see the moonlight through the blinds, spotlighting the water on my coffee table. My mouth felt dry, dehydrated from the sweat. I reached for the glass and sipped at it, poured myself another from the sink. It was too late to try and call him again, and he was ill, I didn't want to keep him up when he should be resting.

He wasn't at work the next day, or the day after. Then a week went by, two weeks. Two weeks and I'd heard nothing. All of my calls went straight to voicemail, texts left on read. _He's alive at least. Just ignoring you. Don't blame him._

I couldn't handle it. If he didn't want to see me, I at least had to know. I pulled my shoes on and threw on my hoodie, keys in hand.

* * *

The elevator seemed to be moving painstakingly slowly. I bounced on my heels. I had a spare key to his apartment, needed to make sure he was alright. I held it between my fingers as the doors opened and I stepped out onto his floor. The narrow corridor seemed all the more intimidating today. The key sat in the lock. I blew out some air and turned it, letting myself in.

"Alex?" I called out.

_What if he's not home? What if he doesn't want to see you? That's why he's avoiding you. You're a selfish prick. _He didn't answer and I set the keys on the counter. I looked into his office. _Has a bomb gone off or something… Jesus._

"What the fuck?" I muttered, taking in the room around me.

Papers and forms littered the floor. I wrinkled my nose as the smell of stale coffee and cereal wafted out of the room. I could barely move the door because of the grotesque mess on the floor. It seemed as though someone had bought an entire stationery store's products and thrown them all on the floor.

"Alex?" I called out again, closing the door behind me.

Still nothing. Bedroom? Maybe? I pushed through to his room and stopped in my tracks. Wrapped in his covers, he created a mound on the bed. He gripped his bed sheets as violent shudders convulsed through him. His shoulders shook, straining himself trying not to cry, but I could see he was going to lose the battle.

I sat on the edge of his bed, "hey, come on, it's alright."

I moved, leaning on the headboard. I opened my arms and he hugged my chest, sniffing. I rubbed his arm and he swallowed, determined not to cry. I knew what he was trying to do.

"What's wrong?" I whispered into the dimly lit room.

He shook his head, "I can't tell you."

_Hates you. Doesn't trust you. Can't talk to you._

I frowned and ran my fingers through his tangled hair. Greasy and in need of a wash. I combed out some of the worst knots with my hands and stayed with him, holding him as he settled. The silence felt painful to me, hated it.

"Why can't you tell me what's got you all worked up?"

"Don't know how- I don't know how to." He pawed at his face, still not letting himself appear weak. I didn't think he was weak, not in the slightest. Knew he felt differently.

"Try?"

He groaned, releasing some of his tension, cleared his throat. His voice cracked as he spoke, "it's hard- difficult. I can't."

Brick by brick, his walls came tumbling down and he clutched my shirt. The sobs were stifled at first, attempting to muffle his reaction to whatever it was causing him grief. He sobbed into my chest unceasingly; I rocked him as his tears soaked into my clothes.

"Hey, come on, Alex. What's breaking my baby's heart?" I brushed the dark strands of hair out of his face and thumbed his cheeks free of the tears.

"I'm really sick."

"Like… the Crohn's thing?"

He wouldn't look me in the eyes, cracked his wrist and stared at the ceiling, biting his lip. Mumbled something I couldn't make out. He knew I couldn't.

"What?"

"It's not _not _the Crohn's thing. I might- there's a big chance- fuck," he cut himself off, coughing and rubbing his eyes, "John, it's- I- Christ... cancer. I might have cancer."

My chest grew tight and rigid. He hid his face in my shirt and I held him close to me. Held him so fucking close I was afraid of breaking him.

"You've been dealing with this on your own?"

He hiccuped and nodded, "I didn't wanna stress you out. You- you were getting better and I didn't want to fuck that up for you."

_He's been scared shitless on his own because you're a pathetic piece of shit who can't hold yourself together long enough to think of someone else. You don't care about anyone but yourself while the man who's done so much for you doesn't even feel like he can confide in you. You egotistic, selfish, self-centered prick. _

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Alex. I'm here now. You don't have to handle it by yourself, not anymore."

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, balanced his chin in the crevice between them. Staring straight forward.

"I have to have surgery, John." I rubbed circles on his back. His fingernails dug into the skin of his arms, biting into the flesh.

"When?"

"Few days."

"Jesus. Okay, right… but it is surgical? They caught whatever it is early?"

He shut his eyes, "I hate this."

"I know. But it'll be over soon, you'll be alright."

He shook his head, "you don't know that."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and sighed, "I do. Because I'll be there. And God knows what I'll do if it doesn't go well. It'll be the surgeons who'll need surgery."

He giggled and pulled his hair out of his face. Rested his head on my shoulder, brows brought together, "I'm really scared."

I kissed his temple, "it might not be cancer, there's no point worrying until you know the facts."

I knew my words were meaningless and the worst advice known to mankind, but I didn't know what else I could say. It was normally the other way around, he was the one that could use words, that could make me feel better. Now the table had turned and I felt about as helpful as a fork being used to eat soup.

"You're right. I know you're right. It's just- I hate surgery. Hospitals. I don't exactly have a great track record."

"It's nobody's favourite thing."

"Will you be there if I wake up?"

I nodded, "I'll be there _when _you wake up."

* * *

I bounced my knee in the chair by his bed, sitting on one hand, the other connecting me to Alex. He chewed his lip, making it bleed. _I can't watch this. I need to smoke, drink, anything. _I had a cigarette pack in my bag. _Later. _The hand he was holding twitched and he turned onto his side.

"You okay?" he asked.

"It should be me asking you that, dollophead."

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut short by the door opening. I could've sworn he shrunk in on himself the second the surgeon walked into the room. He squeezed my hand, painfully so. I smiled at him as the man talked Alex through the procedure, even though - knowing him - he probably already knew. He looked frail and sick lying in the bed, gown draining him of any colour. I would swap places with him in an instant if it meant I didn't have to watch him suffering. At least I deserved it, he didn't.

"Ready?" the doctor asked.

He looked at me fearfully, lump in his throat shifting, "I love you."

I knew it was the fear talking but I couldn't help my lip curling up hearing it, "I love you, too. You're gonna be fine. I'll see you on the other side."

"Wait for me?"

I nodded, "I will."

I watched as they wheeled him away, only being able to bear the confining, white walls of the room for a few moments more. I grabbed my bag and set off down a hallway, walking straight through the waiting room and out to the smoking area. I fumbled with the zip, sighing in relief when I found what I was looking for. I held the cigarette between my lips and cupped my hands around it, lighting it. I held in the toxic fumes for as long as I could, letting it out in a cloud of grey. The smoke morphed into strange shapes.

I slumped onto the green bench, chipped paintwork cutting into my ass. I didn't fucking care. I flicked the ash onto the ground and took another drag. My thoughts wandered back to Alex. It hadn't even been ten minutes. He probably wasn't even under yet. But he had to be okay. Because I was telling the truth. I really didn't know what I would do if something went wrong. And I was telling the truth when I told him I loved him. I lit up another cigarette. But I had to make them last. I smoked half of it and put the rest back in the pack.

I sat in the waiting room, body succumbing to the cold, tired and in need of somewhere comfier to sit. The smell of antiseptic bullshit made me nauseous. _Beeping machines. Pain in my head manifesting, shattering my skull with the intensity of it. Shouting. Heart stopping. Nothing. _

I tilted my neck back and covered my face, snapping myself out of it. _This isn't about you. Get a grip. You're not the one dying, he is. _He wasn't dying, I wouldn't let him. I slipped deeper into the chair and drained the last of the crappy coffee. I'd had way too much today. I felt my brain jolting every now and then, sending waves of lightheadedness through me. I needed something to eat. _Or snort. _Stop it.

Hours passed, or it at least felt like it. A lady holding a clipboard looked around the waiting room and my eyes quirked up, we'd met before. She knew who I was and I crossed the room toward her.

"Well?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

She smiled sympathetically, "it was, for the most part, successful. He's not awake fully yet, but you can go see him. He should be waking up properly soon. He's just a little drowsy and disoriented."

"But he's okay?"

She talked as we walked to his room, "he's okay."

I stared at him from the doorway, his figure lying peacefully under the scratchy, blue blankets. I hated those blankets. The worst invention known to man. I sat down in the chair but I didn't know what to do with my legs. They wouldn't keep still, bouncing and shaking. I couldn't stop fidgeting. I locked my ankles around the legs of the chair and sat on my hands. _Wow, so clever. Genius, one might say. _

I closed my eyes against the noise of the machines. At least they meant he was alive.

"John?" he rasped, throat sounding sore.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him, "hey, how you feeling?"

He groaned, "like someone had a rave in my insides."

"That good, huh?"

"Am I dead?"

I shook my head, "unless I'm Cole Sear, no."

"I'm not dead," he sighed.

He closed his eyes again, only to open them moments later, slowly piecing together what was going on, what had happened, "wait, did it go… okay?"

"Think so, I'll find the doctor," I said.

He nodded and I left him. As I walked out, his doctor approached the room, walking down the corridor. He nodded at me and followed behind into the room. Alex quirked a brow at me.

"You found him quick. Do you have superpowers or something?"

"Are you feeling okay?" the man in the white coat asked.

"Considerably alright."

The doctor smiled and looked over the information in front of him, "overall, the surgery was successful. The polyps _were_ malignant, but we managed to get most of them out. You'll need chemotherapy, but not for very long. It's more of a precaution really. You can take it orally."

Alex grinned. I could actually hear his thoughts. '_Orally, huh? It's not gonna be inserted into me?' _Oh, wait, no. He actually said that. Alexander fucking Hamilton really just said that. I held my face in my hands and laughed.

The doctor did, too. "You'd be surprised by how many times I've heard that. Morphine is crazy."

Alex flicked his tongue out to wet his dry lips, "so, it's not too serious."

"Well, cancer is serious. But in your case, you're gonna be just fine."

"Crohn's gonna complicate anything?"

"I shouldn't think so. Just be sure to drink plenty of water when the chemo starts and try to stick to a diet you know isn't going to flare it up."

The doctor left us and I reached for Alex's hand, brushing the hair out of his face. He grinned dopely at me.

"I'm gonna be okay, John."

I hummed, "I told you you would be."

"And you waited for me."

"Did you doubt I would?"

He smirked, "I thought maybe I scared you away because I told you I love you."

I shook my head, "and I said it back."

"Maybe you're just trying to get back in my pants. I dunno."

My cheeks started to ache, "oh, for sure."

He gripped the itchy fabric of the blankets, rubbing it between his fingers. I twirled one of my curls, one that had fallen out of the hair tie.

"It's almost over now, right? For both of us?"

"Oh no, this shit for sure, but there'll be something else and we'll work it out together. No more hiding things from each other, hmm?"

"Yeah."

I kissed him tentatively on the lips and rested my forehead against his. We would be alright.


End file.
